


Knife's Edge

by oneatatime



Category: Kamen Rider Saber
Genre: A little, Gen, Ryo's in it too, how many times will I need to write Ren (and others) processing his emotions about Kento, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29350305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneatatime/pseuds/oneatatime
Summary: “Ogami-san told me about this, and it’s his house, and when Ogami-san gives a request like that…”Ren said sourly under his breath, “You mean an order.”Touma’s eyebrows went up in mild surprise, but it wasn’t like Ren was wrong. “…then I can’t refuse.”
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Knife's Edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [borrowedphrases](https://archiveofourown.org/users/borrowedphrases/gifts).



…oh. 

Touma swallowed. 

A small shrine, something built with unfussy skill and care. Two sides of flat panels alternating with latticework, a back, a roof a foot or so above Touma’s head. Open at the front. A stand inside it. Wooden and unpainted, but the wood was richly colored, and there were the beginnings of decorative scrollwork on the corners. So neatly put together that he could barely see the joins. In front of the stand, there was a little cover from the roof, so it’d still be worthwhile going there on rainy days. Room for one person. Two people, if they were good friends. 

There was a photo inside, at his shoulder height. All six of them together, with Mei and Sophia-san. Daishinji-san was closest to the camera, clearly holding it in the air to get all of them in the shot. Everyone was happy. 

Then one underneath it of just Kento, at his stomach height. Smiling. Three fingers covering his mouth like he was embarrassed, or trying to protect the pride of whoever’d made him laugh. 

_Smiling._

The sun shone through the latticework at the edges of the roof, illuminating his smiling face and tousled hair. Messier than usual. It didn't matter. He was absolutely beautiful. 

“I don’t really know how to do this,” Touma began, getting down on his knees. It felt more comfortable, somehow. More intimate. He was closer to Kento’s individual photo this way.

He made himself breathe. In, out, in, out. He was balanced perfectly, horribly, on the knife’s edge between happiness about Kento’s friendship and about Kento’s existence, and the deepest of grief and anger that someone so wonderful could have been taken from them. That someone so wonderful could miss out on the rest of his life. “I miss you. Sometimes I wake up because I thought about you. Small, stupid things like when you stole my last mochi, or when you put a flower in my hair and I didn’t even realize until Mei added another. Sometimes-“

“Don’t you talk to him.” 

A quiet, venomous voice. 

Touma stiffened. He tried to find a tone somewhere between placating and firm, and was quite sure he landed more in whiny territory. “I can talk to him, Ren.” 

“What are you _doing_ here?” 

Touma levered himself to his feet, disliking how his hips ached. What was he, sixty? Ren’s arms were folded. 

“Same as you, I imagine,” he said tightly. “Ogami-san told me about this, and it’s his house, and when Ogami-san gives a request like that…”

Ren said sourly under his breath, “You mean an order.”

Touma’s eyebrows went up in mild surprise, but it wasn’t like Ren was wrong. “…then I can’t refuse.” 

He assumed the same had happened to Ren. But really, for both of them, Kento _mattered_. Having a space to particularly remember him, to talk to him, even though they didn’t have a, a body? That mattered, too. So Ogami-san being bossy, that wasn’t the most unreasonable thing ever. 

Including the photo of all of them together, that was about the level of subtlety that he should’ve expected. 

Ren didn’t step back to let him pass more easily, so Touma had to manoeuvre awkwardly around him to give them both some space. Ren bared his teeth briefly, fingers twitching like he wanted to grab Hayate, but he didn’t move. 

“He just told me to come sometime today.”

It sounded accusatory, but maybe it wasn’t. So Touma chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to escalate this. He liked Ren just fine, for all that the other seemed to want to kill him. Also, Ogami-san would be pissed if they fought here. 

“Same. I understand you didn’t know I’d be here.” 

Ren looked at him. His eyes flickered to Kento’s photo, then back again, and there was a crack in his stony expression. “Why do you care!” 

“He was my friend, too!” So much for keeping calm. Touma made himself breathe again. Ren’s hand was on Hayate, but he hadn’t removed it from the sheath on his back. Maybe they could get through this. If he knew how, that’d be nice. “Ren……….. I hate that Kento died. I loved him, ever since I was a kid, even if I forgot him for a while. What Kamijo said to me-”

“He killed Kento!”

“I – I know.” Touma swallowed. “I’m not forgiving that. And he died for it. He can’t hurt anyone again. If the information he gave me, if it can stop what happened with him, what happened with Kento’s father, isn’t that worth investigating? I don’t trust him just because of that. I don’t want anyone else hurt like Kento got hurt!” 

Ren folded his arms tightly across himself, like he was going to break. 

“It’s. Caused. Hurt. Already.” 

“I know. I hate that.” Touma could feel Kento’s photo in his periphery. “I’ve saved some people. I have to be able to fight. Or people will die. _More_ people will die. More people will lose friends like Kento.”

“There’s no one like him,” Ren snapped back automatically, but he very obviously made himself take a moment, rolling his head from side to side. 

“Take a look?” 

Touma shifted further away, and Ren moved into the little shrine.

Touma heard his breath catch. 

Very softly, “Do you know when that photo was taken?” 

“I think so,” Touma murmured. The stress level had just gone from ninety-eight or so down to maybe thirty-five. He wanted to keep it there. “You remember the day after Ogami-san was frozen? I tripped up the stairs in the base, and Daishinji-san dropped his pudding down Ogami-san’s front, and Ogami-san laughed and laughed?” 

The rest had laughed, too, but none so hard as little Sora. 

“…yeah. Yeah, you’re right. That was a good day.” 

Ren sounded so inescapably sad, but softly happy, as well. Another knife’s edge. 

He stepped back out of the alcove, and Touma leaned his head in once again to look at Kento. 

Then Hayate was out, and Touma started to swivel, surprised and scared, but Hayate was up to – was up to block Gekido from a strike at Touma’s unprotected back. 

“I thought so,” said Ogami-san, holding Gekido there for a moment with a look so smug on his face that Touma wanted to hit him and wanted to hug him. He stepped back, and Ren dropped the two halves of Hayate back to his sides, staring at Ogami-san. “Come inside. I have tea and cakes. We’re going to talk about Kento, and that’s it. Understood?” 

“Yes, Ogami-san,” Touma and Ren said together, somewhat helplessly.

The knife’s edge was still there. His happiness, his anger and despair were still there, deep inside him. But there was also something uncoiling. Maybe he could step away from the knife for a few hours. 

Maybe Ren could, too.


End file.
